The Color White
by bad-wolf-and-her-lonely-angel
Summary: When Sam and her mother are in a car crash, Freddie realizes just how much he hates the color white.  Freddie teaches Sam that it's okay to grieve.  Sam teaches Freddie that sometimes, it's okay to fall in love.  Seddie.  WARNING: Character death.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello, my lovelies. AVeryPotterFangirl here. This is my first iCarly story; however, I'm a huge Seddie fan and felt obligated to at least write one Seddie fic after watching iOMG the other day. So, this was the result. I hope you enjoy it. Review please! Reviews save the unicorns!**

**WARNING: Character death.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly. I also do not own a lot of things, like a car, or a watermelon, or a dolphin. But I do own a digital clock. It plays music and has an alarm. So that's pretty cool.**

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><p><strong>The Color White<strong>

**Chapter One**

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><p>Freddie reclined on the couch in his apartment, flipping the television to the Discovery channel. He was indulging in the Mythbusters marathon that was showing, as his mom was on an Obsessive Parenting retreat for the next five days. Freddie was enjoying the freedom, but he missed hanging out with his friends. Carly and Spencer were out of town visiting relatives in Yakima, and no Carly meant no iCarly, which meant no Sam. As much as Freddie admittedly hated her, he missed her company, no matter how dysfunctional and angry she was.<p>

The phone rang, and Freddie groaned. He felt much too lazy to get up and answer it. After the third ring, he heaved himself off the couch and walked slowly to get his PearPhone. He finally reached it and put it to his ear.

"Hello?" he sighed into the receiver. The answer tone was the only response he got. Missed it, he thought. A second later, the phone buzzed again, signaling that the person had left a voicemail. Freddie called it, tapping his fingers impatiently on the counter.

"You have one unheard message. The following message has not been heard. First unheard message sent today at 2:03 PM." Freddie heard his favorite voice through the speaker.

"Freddie, it's Carly." He was angry that he was too lazy to answer her call. She sounded urgent. He listened intently. "The paramedics just called. Sam and her mom were in a car crash. Sam is fine, the doctors said that she is conscious and doesn't have too many injuries, but her mom... her mom isn't doing so well. She really needs someone there with her. Spencer and I will be home in a few days, but until then, can you just go and stay with her? Give me a call when you see her. Thanks, Freddie. Talk to you soon, bye."

By the time the message was over, Freddie had already tied his shoes and pulled on one sleeve of his jacket. No matter how much Sam hurt him, he still cared about her, and this sounded serious. He grabbed his keys and pocketed his phone, running out the door and down the stairs to catch a bus to the hospital.

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><p>Freddie walked quickly through the doors of the hospital, hands in his pockets, shaking his head to get rid of the rain in his hair. He approached the desk in front, where a middle-aged receptionist with graying hair sat, her manicured fingernails clacking against the keyboard at her desk as she typed. She looked up when he cleared his throat.<p>

"Oh, hello," she said cheerily. _Almost too cheerily for a hospital_, Freddie thought. "How can I help you, dear?"

"I need to find Samantha Puckett, please."

The receptionist smiled. "Room 283, down this hall to your left." She pointed down a long, sterile, white hallway. Freddie nodded, thanked her, and began his walk down the hallway.

It was white. Everything was so white. Freddie shivered. He hated the color white. He hated hospitals. To think about how many people had been here, all the illnesses they had, how many people had died here... no. He wouldn't think about that now. This was about Sam.

He had reached room 283. The door was slightly open, and the tail end of a bed was visible from where he was standing. He took a deep breath and walked in.

There she was. As he quietly crossed the white tile floor, he examined the situation. Sam was lying in the hospital bed, the plain white sheets tucked around her body up to her stomach. There were three white bandages on her face: one on her forehead, and two on one cheek, covering three large cuts. Her right arm was in a white plaster cast. There was an IV stuck in her left arm, and other tubes sticking out from under the white hospital gown. Her eyes were shut, and her chest rose and fell softly to the beeping of the heart monitor next to her. She looked so thin. So pale, she was almost... white. She looked so vulnerable. Freddie had never seen her like this before. It was Sam, yes, but at the same time, it wasn't.

He reached the bedside, placing his hands on the edge of the bed, looking down at Sam with tears in his eyes. He pulled over a chair from the corner and sat next to the bed, silently vowing to the girl to stay with her as long as she needed him there.

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><p>Sam was aware of a presence in the room before she opened her eyes. She automatically assumed it was a doctor, so she kept her eyes shut, hoping that if they thought she was asleep, they would refrain from sticking any more needles in her. She instead focused on her other senses. She could feel the weight of a cast on her right arm. She wiggled her fingers. Nothing too extreme. Her head was pounding; she had probably suffered a slight concussion. Everything else seemed to be fine.<p>

She turned her focus to listening. She could hear someone in the room breathing, close to the left side of her bed. She listened intently, but nothing changed for a few minutes. Then, she finally heard a voice.

"Hey Carly," a voice said quietly. Sam was still hazy from all the drugs she was on, and wasn't able to place the voice with a face or a name. Who would be talking to Carly? And why didn't she hear Carly's voice? "Yeah, I'm at the hospital now with Sam." She realized that whoever was talking must be on the phone. Carly and Spencer were out of town. She heard the sound of a chair scraping against the floor as the person stood and began to pace around the room. "I talked to the doctor, he said that she'll be fine. A few small cuts, a broken wrist, and a minor concussion, so nothing too bad. He said they'll probably have her out of the hospital by tomorrow afternoon. She's sleeping right now," the voice said.

Sam finally opened her eyes, wanting to know who was in the room with her. The boy had his back turned to the window, a PearPhone held to his ear. He wore a blue plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a pair of jeans. There was a black jacket draped over his arm, and he wore an old pair of off-white Chuck Taylors. His short brown hair was not perfectly combed as usual, but was stuck up in a few places, as if he had been running his hands through his hair a lot. Sam's heart fluttered inside her chest for reasons she didn't know. Freddie. Freddie came to the hospital to be with her. She smiled. For some reason, she felt... happy.

"Yeah, still no more news there," Freddie whispered. "They're still running tests on her, they don't know what's wrong, but she's lost a lot of blood. They're hoping to find a donor for a transplant. Until they know more they'll keep her on life support. I'll let you know when we find out more." Sam was confused. Who was Freddie talking about? "Alright, I gotta go. I'm gonna stay here with Sam, I'll tell her you say hello. I'll give you a call later tonight." He paused. "Okay. Bye, Carls." He ended the call and sighed, looking out the window. Sam heard him sniff before he turned around. His brown eyes went wide. Sam thought she noticed tears falling from his eyes.

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><p>Freddie hung up his phone and looked out the window with white curtains. He really hated those curtains, especially their color. He thought of his father, so many years ago. He didn't want Sam or her mom to end up like his dad. He let a few tears fall before turning back to Sam.<p>

He gasped when he saw her bright blue eyes trained on him. She smiled weakly at him. He dropped to his knees beside the bed, smiling back at the now conscious girl through his tears. "Sam!"

"Hey, Fredweird," she replied in a raspy, weak voice. He smirked at the nickname. Here she was: lying in a hospital bed, barely conscious, bruised and beaten. Yet, she was still Sam.

"Hi," he breathed, grinning like an idiot. He was just happy to see her awake. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I just got hit by a car. Oh, wait..." she joked. Freddie laughed. Yep. Definitely still Sam.

"Seriously, though. Are you okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah, fine. My head hurts, but the painkillers are working, so I'm okay for now." Freddie lifted a corner of his mouth up into a little smile.

Sam reached up with her good hand and brought it to his face. "Why are you crying?" she asked. He realized that the tears were still on his cheeks. Sam wiped one away. For some reason, he shivered at her gentle touch. He couldn't remember the last time she had touched his face without her either punching, hitting, or slapping him with her hand or some other object. No, this touch was gentle, and caring, and sincere. Strange. He shook his head, trying to cover for himself.

"It's nothing. Just happy that you're okay."

"You're a loser, you know that?" Sam smiled.

"You only tell me every day," Freddie replied. Sam laughed her beautiful laugh. Wait, beautiful? Why did Freddie think her laugh was beautiful? No. This was Sam. Not that she wasn't beautiful, but Freddie didn't think of her that way... did he? Of course not. He was just her friend, and besides, she totally hated him anyways. And he pretty much hated her back. Right?

Freddie didn't have time to dwell on that question. The doctor, in his white coat, entered the room. He smiled, walking over to the bed. "Ms. Puckett! Good to see you awake. How do you feel?"

Sam repeated what she had told Freddie. The doctor wrote all of it down on his clipboard, nodding. He asked her some more general questions, and she answered them all, cooperating for once. He capped his pen and slid it in his pocket. "That's all good, it sounds like you're recovering just fine. I just need to check your eyes quickly to make sure the dilation of your pupils is improving." He pulled out a light, shining it in both Sam's eyes. He nodded again. "It's getting better, your concussion is nothing too serious." He patted her leg, offering a small smile to her and Freddie before he turned to leave.

"Wait!" Sam shouted just before he closed the door. He stopped and turned around.

"Yes, Ms. Puckett?"

"What about my mom?"

The doctor sighed. He looked down at the white floor, not exactly sure how to tell her. "I'm sorry, Ms. Puckett. Your mother is in a coma."

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><p><em>As he watched the remaining color drain from her face, Freddie realized exactly how much he hated the color white.<em>


	2. Chapter 2

**WARNING: Character death.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly. I also do not own a lot of things, like a Swiss Army knife, a saxophone, or a ShamWow. However, I do own a box of colored pencils. There are 120 pencils, and they are arranged by color and shade because of my OCD-ness. So that's pretty cool. **

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><p><strong>The Color White<strong>

**Chapter 2**

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><p>Freddie leaned his head against the cold glass window of the Streamline bus, his backpack sitting in the seat next to him as he rode back to the hospital. He watched the Seattle rain fall, dripping down the glass. It was cold enough that Freddie could see his breath as it created a small round patch of fog on the window. He raised his finger to doodle in the fog, tracing random patterns with his index finger. He sighed. What a crazy few days. He had slept in the chair next to Sam's bed that night to keep her company. They were releasing her from the hospital this afternoon, so Freddie had gone to Sam's house to grab her some clean clothes. He had talked to his mother, and she had agreed to let Sam stay at the Benson's apartment until Pam was released or Carly and Spencer came home, whichever came first. Pam was still in the ICU, and they had no idea when she would wake up. Sam wasn't allowed to see her yet, and she hadn't said a word about it. She would smile at Freddie, but he knew that deep down she was worrying about her mom.<p>

The bus stopped and Freddie hopped off, pulling his hood up over his head and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He walked through the automatic doors of the hospital, giving a slight nod to the receptionist, who waved at him and grinned a red-lipsticked smile. He strode down the hallway, looking only straight ahead at the door he was heading to.

He stepped into room 283, stepping around the bed to sit in the same chair he had slept in. He dropped his backpack next to him and was about to speak when he noticed a soft snoring sound coming from the bed. Sam had fallen asleep.

Her golden curls were splayed across the white pillow. They almost seemed to glow from the stark contrast between them and the bleached fabric of the hospital bed. With all the tubes sticking out from her gown and her pale skin, Freddie thought, Sam looked so helpless.

She mumbled something incoherent and turned her head to the side a little. Freddie watched as her bangs fell across her cheek, covering half of her face. He hesitated before reaching his hand out to brush the hair away from her face and tucking it behind her ear. He laid his palm against her skin. Her cheeks had a rosy glow, but her skin felt cold. She was like Sleeping Beauty. Freddie smirked. She was Princess Puckett, after all. Freddie checked his watch, taking his hand away from the girl's face. The doctors said that Sam could leave by three in the afternoon, and it was 2:45. He really wanted Sam to get out of that bed; it made her look too sick, even though she wasn't. It was all just too white.

He looked back down at her for a minute. He had never really seen it before, but Sam really was gorgeous. Her beautiful blonde locks, her porcelain skin, those diamond blue eyes. The way the tomboy-ish clothes she often wore still somehow managed to accent her girly figure. Sam was his Sleeping Beauty. He thought back to the story. Wasn't the only way to wake her up to kiss her?

He didn't have time to answer that question because at that moment the girl's long lashes fluttered, and Sam opened her eyes. Freddie grinned. "Wake up, Sleeping Beauty," he said.

Sam glared at him from where she lay. "I'm awake, Benson." Freddie chuckled.

"Whatever you say, Princess Puckett."

Sam mumbled under her breath. "Nub."

"I heard that!" Freddie gasped dramatically, a smile hinting at the corners of his lips.

"You were supposed to," Sam mocked, the same sarcasm dripping from her voice. They both laughed at their pointless banter.

At that point, the white-haired doctor walked in, his clipboard in tow. He greeted Sam and Freddie and checked up on the former, looking to see how her pupils dilated and changing the bandages on her wounds. He approved her to leave the hospital, removing the heart monitor from her finger and the IV from her arm and placing a neon green band-aid where the needle had been. The rest of the tubes were removed and the doctor told Sam to call if she needed anything more. He told Freddie to keep a close eye on her sleeping patterns in case her concussion got any worse, although she seemed to be healing well. The two teenagers both nodded and the doctor left the room, bidding them goodbye.

Freddie pulled the clothes he had brought for Sam out of his bag and handed them to the girl before she climbed out of bed to go to the bathroom. She stood for a second, looking off into the distance, before she began to sway. Freddie reached over and grabbed her, and she leaned on him to keep her steady. "Whoa," she whispered.

"You okay?" Freddie asked, failing to hide the worry in his question.

"Yeah, I just got really dizzy there for a second. Ah, my head hurts!" She squeezed her eyes shut, lifting her fingers to her temple and rubbing it.

"The doctor gave me a prescription for your meds, we'll go get them on the way home, okay?" Sam nodded before patting Freddie's shoulder awkwardly and walking into the bathroom.

Freddie watched her go, his heart pounding from the close contact he and Sam had just shared. He didn't really understand it, but something about this girl just did this to him. He sighed, walking around to wait for Sam. He straightened up the room a bit as he went, putting the chair back where he had found it, packing his backpack up. He reached to fix the messy sheets on the bed, when he saw his PearPod sitting on top of the white mattress. He had forgotten that Sam had borrowed it because although she had hers in her bag, it was out of battery. He picked it up and turned it on. It was open to his music. I wonder what Sam was listening to, Freddie pondered. He clicked the 'Now Playing' button to find that there was only one song, on repeat. Running Away, by A.M.

_I didn't think Sam liked A.M._, Freddie thought. _I thought she only listened to CuttleFish and junk like that... Wait! That's the song that was playing when Sam and I kissed. Why was she listening to it? On repeat, too!_ That was too weird. Freddie turned off the PearPod and wrapped the headphones around it before sliding it into his backpack. This day was just getting more and more strange.

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><p>Sam shut the bathroom door behind her and immediately stripped from her hospital gown. She looked at herself in the mirror, dressed only in her matching black bra and underwear. She couldn't believe how thin and pale she looked. Her hair was a mess; she really needed a shower. She had three cuts on her face, and they didn't look so pleasant. She never had cared so much about her appearance until recently. She didn't understand why, though.<p>

She thought back to the moment just seconds earlier when Benson had caught her, as she had gotten dizzy and fallen. It was strange. When they had touched, she felt something. Sparks. She shook her head. Surely it was just from the head rush. Not that tech-nerd nub frenemy of hers. Right?

She unfolded the clothes that he had handed her. She pulled on a pair of dark wash skinny jeans and a faded grey and black striped t-shirt, having a bit of difficulty because of the cast on her right arm, which was, coincidentally, her dominant hand. She slipped her sneakers onto her feet and tried to tie them before giving up and standing back up. She looked in the mirror again, combing her fingers through her hair to tame her frizzy curls a bit. When she finally deemed herself presentable, she unlocked the door and walked out of the horribly small bathroom that was too white for her liking.

She peered out from behind the door. Freddie was standing by the bed, bending over his backpack and putting his stuff away. He zipped it up and stood, turning towards Sam. He smiled. "Ready to go?" he asked.

"Y-yeah," Sam replied, stuttering when she saw his smile. It was just kind of adorable. She mentally shook herself. This was _Freddork_. He wasn't adorable. He was a nerd. Sam put on her mean facade. "What are you grinning at, Benson?"

"It's good to see you out of that hospital bed."

"Whatever." She was still surprised that he actually cared about her enough to stay with her in the hospital. They had gotten closer over the past year. They were friends, but they still treated each other like crap. She went to walk over him, and she felt herself stumble as she caught her foot on something. She looked down, and remembered that she hadn't tied her shoelaces. She shuffled over to Freddie, sighing loudly.

He chuckled. "What is it, Sam?"

Sam sighed again. "I can't tie my shoes." Freddie raised an eyebrow at her, a smirk on his face. She just motioned to the cast on her hand. Freddie laughed again and bent down to tie her shoes for her.

"There ya go," he said, standing up. As he slung his bag over his shoulder, he placed his hand gently on her arm to steer her out of the hospital room. At the simple touch, Sam felt her breath hitch. Her heart was pounding, but she didn't know why. She didn't like the fact that it was Freddie that did that to her. When that song had come up on Freddie's PearPod, the kiss they had shared had been all Sam could think about. She found herself putting it on repeat, trying to convince herself that it was just because 'Running Away' was a good song. But really, she knew it was more.

Both of them lost in thought, Sam and Freddie checked out at the main desk, and went to catch a bus to take them back to Bushwell Plaza.

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><p>When they reached the Benson's apartment, Freddie showed Sam into the guest bedroom, allowing her to drop of her belongings that she was carrying with her in a black duffle bag. They had stopped at Sam's house so she could get clothes for the next few days. By the time Sam was settled, it was almost 5 o'clock, and Sam complained that she was hungry. Freddie grabbed his phone and ordered Chinese delivery for the two of them. When it arrived, they put in a movie that Freddie had lying around, called "Boogey Bear Takes Manhattan." Sam scarfed down her takeout box of lo mein and another of chicken fried rice. Sam was completely engrossed in the movie, giving Freddie a chance to observe her without being caught. Freddie ate his sweet and sour chicken, watching the way Sam's delicate fingers curled around her chopsticks, the art of which she had mastered. She slurped up a noodle, her tongue reaching from her lips to wipe away a drop of sauce that had splattered onto her chin. Though he normally would have found it disgusting, today, he found it kind of cute. He loved how she sat with her legs curled up under her on the couch. He loved how her blonde bangs fell occasionally in her eyes and how she would reach up and brush them out of her face, her ice blue eyes coming into view. She would kill him if she knew that he was thinking about her this way, of course, but he couldn't stop. She intrigued him.<p>

When Sam shifted positions and her arm lightly brushed against Freddie's, giving him goosebumps where their skin had touched, he realized something.

He was in love with Samantha Puckett.

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><p>As Sam bid Freddie goodnight, she walked into the guest bedroom of the Benson's apartment, deep in thought. The whole night, she had felt Freddie's eyes on her. She didn't understand why he was staring. Did she have food on her face? Or did she really look so terrible after the accident that he was so baffled by her appearance and couldn't look away? She looked in the mirror of the bathroom that was connected to her temporary bedroom. She looked the same as she did before: a couple cuts on her face, but the same pale complexion and blue eyes as before. There were no traces of food on her face, and her hair looked perfectly decent. Why, then, could Freddie not keep his eyes away? And, furthermore, why did Sam even care?<p>

Being careful not to jostle her injured arm too much, Sam pulled off her clothes and exchanged them for a black ribbed tank top and a pair of blue and black plaid pajama shorts. She padded barefoot into the bedroom and slipped into the unfamiliar bed, pulling the comforter over her body. She closed her eyes, loving the feeling of being in a bed that wasn't in a hospital, with soft, blue sheets instead of crisp white ones. With her cast resting awkwardly across her stomach, Sam let sleep overtake her.

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><p><em>Sam is in her mother's car. The early August rain beats down on the windshield and the wipers are going furiously, working to keep the glass free from the water. Pam sits next to her in the driver's seat, one hand on the steering wheel and the other gesturing wildly as she, once again, argues with Sam.<em>

_"Maybe if you would stop getting arrested all the time, things would be easier!" Pam shouts._

_"Maybe if you could keep a boyfriend for longer than a week and be a better parent I would stop getting arrested!" Sam retorts just as loudly._

_"God, Sam, why can't you be more like Melanie?" Pam screams, exasperated. This hits Sam to the core. She feels a tear run down her cheek as she turns to look straight at her mother._

_"I HATE YOU!" Sam explodes. At that moment, a truck from the other side of the street moves into their lane, and Pam swerves to avoid hitting it. Sam feels the car slam against the guardrails on the side of the road, and soon, she is falling. She is disoriented. She can't tell what is up or down, but feels herself flipping over and over. All she sees is red._

_She screams._

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><p>Freddie was woken by a bloodcurdling scream coming from the next bedroom. One thing flashed through mind.<p>

_Sam._

He jumped out of bed, throwing the covers almost completely off the bed. He ran down the hallway, stopping in front of Sam's door. She was sitting straight up, her eyes squeezed shut, still screaming. Freddie quickly crossed the room to her bed and put a hand on her shoulder and shook it slightly. "Sam! Sam, can you hear me? It's me, it's Freddie." Her eyes flew open, glassy with tears, and looked directly into Freddie's brown ones for a few seconds before she collapsed into his arms, sobbing. Freddie was shocked, but held Sam all the same, wrapping his arms around her small body and letting her cry onto his chest. He rubbed her back gently and whispered to her, trying to soothe the crying girl. She clutched the front of his white t-shirt with her good hand, the strangled sobs that spilled from her mouth muffled by Freddie's chest. She only cried for a few minutes before pulling away, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Sorry," she murmured.

Freddie shook his head. "Don't be," he replied softly. Sam was quiet for a minute, and Freddie felt the tension in the room build. He wanted to break it. "Nightmare?" he asked casually. Sam nodded. "Wanna talk about it?" Freddie asked, after she had been silent for another moment. She shook her head no. "Okay," Freddie replied, shrugging his shoulders. He wasn't sure exactly what to do, so he patted her leg awkwardly before standing up off the bed and turning to leave. "Goodnight, then."

He was just about to step out into the hallway when she stopped him. "Wait, Freddie!" she called, her voice cracking from having cried so much. He turned, glancing back at where she sat. She looked at him with pleading eyes that he could barely make out in the dark. "Please stay here with me?" Freddie was shocked by her request, but he couldn't bring himself to turn her down, seeing as how her brilliant blue eyes threatened to spill more tears at the slightest provocation. "I don't want the nightmares to come back." That got him. He knew what it was like to be terrified of those nightmares that haunted your sleeping hours. He knew what it felt like to try to stay awake, knowing that if you succumbed to your drowsiness, you would only wake up moments later in a fit of screams and tears. He sighed and walked over to the bed, sitting down gingerly on the mattress. He looked at her, waiting for her to lie down and go back to sleep.

She laid back on the pillow, turning on her side and looking away from Freddie. He watched as her lip quivered slightly, and another tear fell from her eye. He hated to see her cry. He laid down on the opposite side of the bed, facing her. "Sam, what's wrong?" She just shook her head, a few mores tears falling and dripping from the bridge of her nose. Freddie took a chance, acting on instinct to help the girl he loved. He held out his arms to her, inviting her to come closer. Surprisingly, she accepted, and moved closer, into his arms. He held her tight, the warmth from her body radiating across the small space between them and filling Freddie with love for the girl. She buried herself in his arms, nudging her head under his chin. She rested her injured arm across his stomach, pulling them impossibly closer to each other. He leaned down to whisper in her ear. "It's okay, Sam. I've got you." Her breathing had evened out, her eyes shut. She was asleep. Freddie smiled, and did something even he hadn't expected himself to do. He brushed her hair away from her face and kissed her forehead tenderly. Knowing she wouldn't hear, he whispered softly to her just three words.

"I love you."

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><p><em>With that, Freddie closed his eyes and waited for the white light that would bring the morning.<em>

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><p><strong>AN: So there's chapter two! Sorry about the weird tense switch from the story to the dream, I know it was weird. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. But how will I know if you don't review? :( Remember, reviews save the narwhals! **

**Thanks to my lovely reviewers from the last chapter: Kpfan72491, MizzPonyMad, jhuikmn08, Geekquality, iBrown-eyed-blonde, jackpotdante, mamaluvsangst, Velandrae, CatoFliesWithBirds, and KressxBlack! I love you all!**

**And now, my friends, go forth, review, and be awesome. Farewell.**

**AVPFangirl ~less~than~three~**


	3. Chapter 3

**WARNING: Character death.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own iCarly. I also do not own a lot of things, like a unicorn, or a unicycle, or Utah. However, I do own a big bouncing inflatable green ball. It's green, and it's also inflatable. So that's pretty cool.**

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><p><strong>The Color White<strong>

**Chapter 3**

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><p>Light streamed through the window of the Benson's guest room, shining into the eyes of one Samantha Puckett. She groaned, not wanting to wake up, and attempted to roll over to shield her eyes from the sunlight and perhaps go back to sleep. When she tried to move, however, she found that she was being restrained. She unwillingly forced her eyes open, trying to figure out why she couldn't turn. She was face to face with a sleeping Freddie Benson.<p>

Her heart swelled at the sight of her best frenemy lying there. She recalled the events of the past night. She had woken from a nightmare of the car crash, screaming bloody murder, and he had been there to comfort here. Right before she had fallen asleep, he had kissed her forehead and whispered the three words she hadn't realized she had always longed to hear. _I love you._ She pretended to be asleep, hoping that her face wouldn't betray the shock and pure desire she felt at that moment. She had finally figured out what it was she felt for him. Sam Puckett was in love with Freddie Benson.

She looked at him now. His eyes were shut, chest rising and falling rhythmically. His short brown hair stuck up in a few places, and surprisingly, Sam found it incredibly adorable. She snuggled herself closer to him, resting her head against his neck, inhaling his scent. He smelled clean, like soap and spearmint toothpaste, and there was a lingering hint of cologne in there somewhere, too. As Sam pressed her body closer to his, Freddie's arm tightened around her waist, pulling her so that she was almost entirely on top of him.

She inhaled quickly, her heart pounding at the insanely close proximity of their bodies. She reveled in this rare contact she got with him. It was the one time she could let go and not feel stupid or guilty for having feelings for that crazy, adorably nerdy boy. She was just Sam, and he was just Freddie, and they were together, if only for a moment. If only in a dream.

Freddie chose that opportune moment to wake up. He lifted up a hand to his face, his eyes squinting at the bright light that was infiltrating the room. He groaned, rolling on his side until he was face to face with Sam. There was less than an inch of space between their faces, and either of them could have easily closed the gap for a kiss. But no, it's never that easy. Freddie's eyes went wide. "Oh-I... Hi, Sam."

Sam did the one thing she knew how to do best. She put on the mask she wore so often. She pulled away from him and narrowed her eyes, trying to seem angry. She succeeded. "Get off me, Benson." Freddie scrambled to quickly move his arm from under her and scoot away from her on the bed, looking terrified. She glared at him as she stood up. She grabbed a sweatshirt and threw it over her head, combing her fingers through her curls to tame them. She looked back at Freddie. "Look, Freddifer. This was one time, and one time only. I was sca- never mind. We forget this happened and never speak of it again, okay?" Freddie nodded, sitting up and straightening his sweatpants as he went to leave the room. Sam's expression softened. She couldn't just end it on that note. "Hey." He turned back to her, and she could feel her heart stop. He was absolutely gorgeous.

"Yeah?" he asked, his voice rough and deep from having just woken up. Sam glanced nervously at her bare feet.

"Thanks."

Freddie was shocked. He had never heard Sam thank him before, or anyone really, for that matter. He found himself smiling as he replied.

"Any time."

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><p>Freddie went to change clothes for the day, thinking hard. He couldn't believe that Sam would let him be so close to her, physically and emotionally. She had to at least like him a bit, considering that she would never let anyone see her at her most vulnerable. As he thought, he put on a clean pair of jeans and went to get a clean shirt. He pulled off his white t-shirt to change, but as he took it off, something took him by surprise. He pressed the shirt to his nose. It smelled of vanilla and raspberries. He would remember that smell anywhere. It smelled like Sam. He pulled the shirt back over his head. He wasn't about to just leave behind that reminder of that night. He wasn't going to be able to forget as Sam had suggested he do. If anything, he'd always want to remember it. He pulled on a blue t-shirt and a soft grey hoodie. Zipping it up, he walked towards the kitchen to start making breakfast.<p>

Freddie walked to the refrigerator and pulled out the pre-prepared package of bacon he kept just in case Carly and Spencer ran out and needed to appease Sam. He started the stove and set out frying the bacon. He toasted a few slices of bread and poured orange juice into two glasses. By the time he had set the food out on the dining room table, Sam ran out of the guest bedroom, wearing a purple long-sleeved shirt with a grey vest, and a dark pair of jeans with a colorful pair of sneakers. Her beautiful curls were pulled back in a half-updo with her bangs brushed to the side, a few strands of hair hanging haphazardly in her face. She skidded across the hardwood floor into the kitchen. "Mama smells bacon!" she exclaimed, smiling and completely back to herself. Freddie gave her a faint smile and motioned for her to sit down at the table. She eagerly jumped into a seat, immediately stuffing her face with the greasy meat and draining the glass of juice. Freddie just chuckled and sat down across from her, beginning to butter a piece of toast. By the time he had taken a bite, Sam had finished the food on her plate and was beginning to steal food from Freddie's. He almost protested, but decided it was of no use, letting her eat to her heart's content.

The two continued eating in silence, with only the sounds of chewing and clinking silverware making noise in the Benson's apartment. When Freddie finished his piece of toast and the only remaining slice of bacon on the plate, he sat back in his chair and watched as Sam finished her meal. When Sam had cleared her plate, she leaned back, letting out a contented sigh. "I'm surprised, Benson. I didn't know you could cook."

Freddie just smiled, looking up at Sam. Chocolate eyes met ocean blue. The two stared into each other's eyes for a moment, but it felt like forever to both of them. Freddie was certain that this was going to be awkward, but it wasn't. It actually felt familiar to him. I could get used to this, he thought.

Surprisingly, Sam broke the eye contact first, looking down to her hands in her lap and then to the clock above the microwave. Freddie looked as well. The clock read 10:45. Sam looked back at Freddie, all trace of happiness having disappeared from her face. Her diamond blue eyes bored into Freddie's, and she almost looked as if she were about to cry. "Can we go now?" she asked quietly. Freddie didn't have to ask where she meant. He just knew. He nodded quietly and stood, taking both of their plates and glasses to the dishwasher. He zipped his hoodie up farther, sticking his phone and keys into the pocket. He turned to find Sam shrugging into her black jacket. As they had been doing so often in the past day, they silently exited the apartment. They had to get to the hospital.

* * *

><p>As Sam strode into the hospital, she felt a strange sense of urgency. Well, her mother was in a coma, for God's sake. She was allowed to be worried a bit. But hearing Freddie's rhythmic steps behind her helped calm her down a bit. She wasn't alone in this.<p>

She walked up to the main desk, where the same receptionist as the day before was sitting. Shirley, the nameplate read. The lady named Shirley smiled brightly at Sam and Freddie, who stood just behind Sam. "Well, hello, dears. How can I help you?"

Sam got straight to the point. "I need to see my mother, right now, please." Shirley nodded.

"Name, please?"

Sam swallowed. "Pam Puckett." Shirley typed quickly on the keyboard, her bright red fingernails clacking on the keys. Sam didn't exactly enjoy the sound. Finally after a few seconds, Shirley nodded in understanding.

"Your mother is in the ICU, just down the hallway. You can talk to them and ask if she's allowed to have visitors." She motioned in the direction of a hall just to their left. Sam nodded at the receptionist and set off at a brisk pace down the hallway.

She heard Freddie sigh from behind her. She could just imagine him rolling his eyes at her, which was one of the things she thought was so adorable about him. But now wasn't the time to be thinking about the nerdy boy she loved. She had to see her mom. "Thank you for your help," she heard Freddie say politely. Then she could hear his footsteps behind hers on the white linoleum floor of the hall. She was sort of glad Freddie was there with her. Spencer and Carly weren't out of town, so without him, she had no one else. It was nice to have someone to count on, sometimes.

Sam reached the doors labeled 'Intensive Care Unit' and, taking a deep breath, pulled one of the doors open. Freddie followed her in.

It was quieter here than in the rest of the hospital. All that could be heard was the whirring of machines and quiet footsteps of the doctors and nurses who were milling around from room to room. Sam quickly found the desk and approached a young, 20-something woman in blue nurse's scrubs, bending over a clipboard and scribbling something down with a pen. She looked up and smiled at Sam and Freddie, setting down her pen and standing up straight.

"Hi, how can I help you?" the lady asked, her face kind and sincere. Her light brown hair was pulled back into a messy bun behind her head, and her hazel eyes were welcoming.

"My name's Sam Puckett, and, uh, I was hoping I could see my mom. Pam?"

She smiled sadly. "Of course, Sam. Right this way." She started off to the right wing of the unit. Sam looked around. All the rooms looked exactly the same. Sliding glass doors, many of which were covered by dark curtains, separated the rooms from the hallway. From the ones that didn't have the curtains drawn, Sam could see vague forms lying in the hospital beds, surrounded by machines. She didn't dare give each room more than a glance, not wanting to see the full extent of the injuries that had ended these people in the ICU.

The nurse stopped in front of a room that looked exactly like all the others, with it black curtains drawn so that no one could see inside the room. She turned to face Sam and Freddie. "Here you go. Do you want me to call her doctor in? He can update you on what's happening." Sam nodded, glancing nervously at the glass pane that separated her from her mother. She needed in, now.

The nurse noticed Sam's anxiety and grimaced. "Sorry, I'll let you go. My name is Anna, by the way. Feel free to give me a call if you need anything."

Sam finally looked up at the nurse who was being so helpful. She appreciated it. She liked this person a lot, actually. "Thanks, Anna."

Anna nodded and put a hand on Sam's arm, only for a second. Then she dropped her hand and turned to walk back to the desk at the entry. Sam was surprised by the comforting touch, but welcomed it all the same. It was nice to know that someone cared.

She turned back and looked at Freddie for the first time since they had gotten off the bus. He motioned to the door. "Go ahead, Sam. I'll wait out here. I think you need some time alone with your mom. Just call me when you want me to come in, okay?" Freddie spoke quietly, but his voice was the only thing she heard. She gulped and nodded, before taking the handle of the sliding door and pulling it to the side.

Sam took two steps into the room and tried to take in the sight before her eyes. It took all her strength not to break down into tears right then and there.

Lying there, tucked under the thin bleached-white hospital sheets, was Pam Puckett. Yes, it was Pam, but Sam almost didn't recognize her mother at first. Her short blonde hair was not visible, as the top of her head was completely bandaged. She was dressed in a hospital gown, the bed sheets pulled up and tucked around her thin frame at the armpits, leaving only her arms and the upper part of her chest uncovered. From under the sheets, a multitude of various tubes were running from her body to different machines around the room. An oxygen mask had been placed over Pam's mouth. Sam took a moment to gather herself, before finally walking across the room to stand next to the bed. From what she could see, her mother's face looked ashen, and only the steady beeping of the heart monitor reassured her that her mom was still, if only barely, alive. A very uncomfortable looking metal chair was next to the bed, and Sam lowered herself into it, taking her mother's hand. An IV was stuck and taped into her arm, and through the pale skin, Sam noticed how prominent the blue veins looked. Pam's skin seemed to hang from her bones. She was slowly deteriorating into nothing more than an unmoving, lifeless skeleton.

Sam tightened her grip on the bony, thin fingers she held in her own hand. She took a breath, trying to calm herself. Then she spoke. "Mom?" She asked quietly. Sam was surprised by how choked up she sounded. She sniffed one more time. " It's me, Sam. Can you hear me, Mom?" Sam saw no indication that her mother could hear a single word she said, but nonetheless, she kept speaking. "Mom, if you can hear me, I want you to squeeze my hand, okay? Can you do that for me?" Still, not a single movement. Sam felt the tears begin to drip down her cheeks. "Please, Mom. Please. I need you to let me know that you're okay." Nothing. Sam lowered her head and let the tears fall, sobbing softly to herself.

There was the sound of a door being slid open, and someone spoke. "Miss Puckett?" Sam was startled, her head shooting up to see who had suddenly entered the room. A man in a stark white lab coat walked further into the room, and behind him, Sam could see Freddie, standing outside the room, looking the same as Sam felt: distraught and scared shitless. Sam realized she was still crying. She dropped her mother's hand, where it fell onto the white sheet where it had been before, and hastily wiped away the tears that remained on her face. She turned back to the doctor, waiting for him to speak.

The doctor came closer, the bed still separating him from Sam. He glanced nervously around the room, adjusting his glasses, pushing the thin silver rims farther up his nose. He was awkward. Sam didn't like him. So she focused on Freddie instead. He stood in the doorway now, his hands clasped tight behind his back. His eyes darted nervously around the room until they finally came to rest on Sam. He raised his eyebrows, surprised to see Sam crying, she guessed. She shifted her gaze away from his, trying to wipe her eyes as discreetly as possible.

The doctor cleared his throat, and Sam finally looked back at him. "Well?" she asked impatiently. The doctor looked surprised to hear her speak. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong with my mother or not?"

The doctor sighed audibly. "Miss Puckett, your mother is suffering from severe head trauma and slight internal bleeding, as well as other minor injuries. Currently, she is in a coma caused by the concussion and the bruising that the accident caused to her brain. We have her on life support, so her condition is stable at the moment."

Sam took a minute to process the information. She didn't really understand, but she knew that it was really bad. She went into her default mode: anger. "Well there has to be something you can do!" Sam shouted.

The doctor shook his head. "There is a surgical procedure we can do, where we could drain the excess fluid surrounding her brain. But it's a dangerous operation and we aren't sure how it would effect her condition."

Sam paused. "When is she gonna wake up?"

The doctor sighed again. "We can't be sure when or if she will regain consciousness. If she does, there is a very high chance that she will wake up with a severe brain disorder. She could potentially be extremely mentally handicapped for the rest of her life." Sam let out a barely audible whimper, and she saw Freddie's gaze shoot to her, his warm chocolate eyes filled with concern. The doctor, however, didn't notice. "I'm very sorry, Samantha. There isn't much we can do at the moment." Sam tried to contain herself from strangling the doctor for calling her by her full name and being so damn condescending and unhelpful, biting her lip so hard she nearly drew blood. With that, the doctor gave her a curt nod and exited the room.

It was quiet for a moment, and then Freddie tried to speak. "Sam-"

He was cut off by the sound of the door sliding open. The nurse they had met before, Anna, peered into the room. "Uh, hi, guys. I need to run a few tests on your mom, so can I have you step out for just a minute? I asked Dr. Cooper, but he said you needed to leave the room while I finish up. I'm really sorry, I'll let you back in a few minutes, but for now, you can just stand right outside the door and watch, if you want." Anna shrugged apologetically, and Sam could tell she really was trying to be helpful, much more so than the stupid doctor. This Anna person was really starting to grow on Sam. She nodded silently, standing up from her chair and brushing past Freddie and Anna out into the hallway. She stood outside the glass door, staring in and crossing her arms. She watched as Freddie left the room and took his place standing next to her and Anna began bustling around the room, checking the machines and doing her tests.

* * *

><p><em>Standing helplessly in the cold, white hospital, Sam had a feeling this wouldn't end well.<em>

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><p><strong>AN: Well, there ya go! I apologize profusely for taking so long to update, you guys. I really do. I feel awful. I hope the next chapter will be up soon. Either way, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! But how will I know if you don't review? Hmm? Hmm, I ask you? HMMMM? By the way, your 27 current reviews have saved unicorns and narwhals from extinction. Now, all reviews for this chapter go towards saving the much less common, but quite imaginary Zebratard, which is half pig, half eagle, half zebra, making it an improper fraction. That's one and a half mythical creatures. It's surprisingly graceful. SO REVIEW AND SAVE THE ZEBRATARDS :D**

**Thanks to my lovely reviewers from the last chapter: jackpotdante, Geekquality, jhuikmn08, RyryVaught, SilentDreamsxx, mamaluvsangst, Channylover08, White Firebird, Kpfan72491, xXSeddieXx, TheRockAngel, PinkFanF, smileyBAM03, Velandrae, Noelle Lane, Flutter360, and Fiddlegirl :) You guys are the best!**

**Alright, anyone who can tell me the two references in this chapter (one in the disclaimer and one in the author's note) will get a special dedication in the next chapter and a lifetime supply of internet hugs. And now, my friends, go forth, review, and be awesome. Ta ta for now…**

**AVPFangirl ~less~than~three~**


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